


i saw you first...

by FanGirlHasaProblem



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Actual Violence, Carl is a Little Shit, John Watsons dad, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Jim Moriarty, School, Some talking of pulling fingernails out, Thoughts of Violence, Threats of Violence, Torture, carl drowns, is skin peeling a tag?, oh the games they play, possible triggers for people?, rated m to be safe, skin peeling, talk of organ removal, torture using acid, wanna go to the park Jim?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlHasaProblem/pseuds/FanGirlHasaProblem
Summary: They first meet when they are 11 and become inseparable, where Jim goes, John willingly follows.... for a while anyway.  It's a WIP john/jim pairing, showing their relationship throughout the years, rating may go up in later chapters so be sure to check the tags ect. John isn't all fluffy and cute in this fic... just to warn you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i do not own these characters... not one little itty bitty bit... shame really

They first met when they were 11.

Jim had just started at the secondary school, it was dull, boring, utterly predictable and he hated it. The other children were idiots, simplistic beasts giving into basic hormonal wants and needs when ever they felt like it. It was all rather disgusting if he was being totally honest about it.

Which was why he avoided the other children as much as possible, he had things to do, things to plan, experiments to bring to fruition.

 

“Oi, nutter! What ya doin?”

 

Carl Powers, class bully, frankly offending skin and has a rather odd obsession with trainers. He'd taken an instant disliking to Jim and had made his 5 weeks at school as uncomfortable as possible. Jim had started running the experiment on him already, had started it in his second week of school, and was pleased to see that it had finally started to show some results.

 

“Weirdo, I’m talking to you, what've you got??”

 

Jim ignored him, it was pretty obvious he was painstakingly pulling the spinal column from the dead cat he had found, he'd had the urge to see if he could get it out whole, with no breaks. It was taking more care than he had anticipated.

 

“Is that a cat? Oh my god, you little psycho! You killed it didn’t you!”

 

He sighed, idiot, they were all idiots in this school , every single one.

 

“Yes it's a cat, no I did not kill it, I just found it”

 

Carl's eyes narrowed, taking in the spinal column half removed. “I don't believe you creep, I think you killed it. So I’m gonna make you pay you sick little shit”

 

Before Jim could raise to his feet Carl had pulled back his fist and driven it into his chest, knocking him backwards and effectively winding him.

Punch, kick, kick, punch, the blows rained down on him relentlessly. He tried to curl his body in on itself to try protect his softer area. Then he retreated into his mind as best he could. Plans needed to be made.

Because Carl Powers would pay for this. The experiment with the poison was taking too long to reach its conclusion. He wanted him to _suffer_ , to _beg_ for mercy. Jim was looking forward to it, to seeing the fear flood his eyes as he hurt him. Flood... water, that would be lovely, drowning had it's merits. Less evidence left, could even make it look like an accident. Oh yes, it would be a work of art.

 

Suddenly the blows stopped.

 

“Get away from him Carl!” A new voice? He raised his head, Carl was sprawled on the floor clutching at his nose, which was bleeding, the red in stark contrast to how pale his face had gone. “Go on then, get away” He turned towards the voice to find a smallish blond boy stood next to him, fists clenched, his left one having a smear of blood across the knuckles. Left handed then.

Surprisingly Carl lurched to his feet and ran away.

 

“You ok down there mate?”

 

Jim nodded, stumbling to his feet, wincing as pain flashed through his ribs, possibly cracked one or two, definitively bruised, more so on his left side, his leg ached as did his arm. Bruises then, he couldn't feel much dampness so any cuts would be superficial.

 

“You're kinda bleeding you know, there look” The boy pointed to his forearm where a slow trickle of blood had started its decent down the arm to drip onto the ground.

 

“Here look, put this on it then come to the bathroom with me so we can get you cleaned up.” He was handed a wad of tissue the boy pulled from his pocket. “It's clean I promise I’ve not used it. It just got a bit squished is all, come on, before one of the teachers decides to come over” And so he followed him.

 

Once in the bathroom he discovered the boy's name was John Watson. He also found out that John Watson was quite efficient at caring for cuts and bruises, more so than a normal 11 year old would be. He had an elder sibling and they lived with their father. Mother most likely dead. Father an addict of some sort going by the state of John's hair and clothes. He had a rather distinct air of neglect about him. Of course John had only told Jim his name.

 

“So Jim, what was all that about?”

 

“It was Carl just being Carl. Don't worry about it” He tried to sound nonchalant, tried to hide the anger which was always simmering under the surface.

 

John watched him for a few moments, then a small smile twitched at his slips, “So how're we gonna get him back?”

 

Jim stared at him, we? How're _we_ gonna get him back? The both of them? Together? Jim and John, John and Jim? Maybe best to try convince him that there was no plan to get him back, if Jim manages to pull his plan together, it will either go brilliantly, or he will be going away for a long time, no need to drag John down with him.

 

“ _We_ are not John.” John frowned, “There is no plan to get him back, the plan is to ignore him and just get on with our lives as normal” Now John narrowed his eyes. “Now if you would excuse me I really do need to get going”

 

“No sorry, not working. If you don't stand up for yourself then he'll keep doing it. If you don't do something then I will” Huh. Surprising. Should have guessed he would be the sort that wouldn't let it go.

 

“It's fine John, I will take care of it”

 

John narrowed his eyes at him again, but slowly nodded and moved out of the way so Jim could leave. He headed to the library, he needed to research a few things before starting to plan. He smiled grimly to himself. Oh it was going to be _beautiful!_


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bye Carl....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup, so not my characters, i don't own them , wish i did...

It was Monday morning that he next saw John Watson. And oh how he had been surprised! He'd been cutting class in favour of going to the pool to see if there was any cctv in there, mind focused on the next stage of his planning, when he'd turned a corner to find that John had Carl pinned against the wall. Neither of them had seen him yet, he was about to make himself known when Carl spoke, “Why are you even bothered about that psycho? He's not normal you know” Jim froze, he wanted to hear what John would say.

 

So he eased himself into a classroom doorway, just out of their line of vision, but he could still peek around the edge to watch them.

 

“Just leave him alone Carl. If I see you harass him again I swear you wont like what happens” There was a very real promise of violence in John's voice, Jim approved.

 

Apparently Carl had noticed this too as he paled, “Fine, ok. I'll leave the little weirdo alone, dunno why you're so bothered by it though Watson. It's not like he's you're friend, people like him don't have friends”

 

John seemed to stare at him for a few moments, then without warning he slammed Carls head into the wall, snarling “Just leave him alone” then stormed off.

 

When Jim was sure that John had gone he went over to Carl, the other boy was lent against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, most likely trying not to cry. He wasn't used to being bested, he was used to being top dog, the big fish. He liked seeing him on the floor, in pain. He smiled, and John, oh John was just something else. The violence in his voice was like music, Jim could listen to it all day, had wished he had gotten a recording, wished he could make him do it again, wished he could have his vocal cords exposed while he said it again, just to see how they moved, how they created the sound.

 

He sighed, he needed to focus on the task at hand, cctv, maybe test the chlorine levels too. They might be a variable he needed to factor into the plans, he also needed to get Carl to the pool.

He hummed as he walked, this weekend, it would be this weekend. He would make Carl beg and plead and sob and it would be _brilliant_.

 

He passed the remainder of the week in a whirlwind of planning and testing and watching. Mainly watching Carl, but every now and again he found himself watching John too. He seemed to have a regular group of friends that he liked to sit with. None of them interesting enough for Jim to take much notice of. They did normal things, they talked, they ran around, they laughed, and never once did Jim hear John use that voice again. Shame.

 

What he did notice, was that on some days John seemed rather subdued, and stiff. Like he was in pain, but there was never anything visibly wrong with him, and as soon as he noticed, John had returned to normal, so there was never enough time to study him properly. Which he shouldn't be trying to do anyway. John was a distraction. He needed to focus on the plan.

 

Friday arrived and Jim was vibrating with excitement, the school day dragged by so slowly that at one point he was sure that the clock had broken and no one had noticed. It was simple to lure Carl to the pool, all he'd had to do was ask for a “fair fight” at 5pm in the gym. Easy.

 

And so, here they were, Carl looking at him in confusion as he lead him to the pool. The sharp smell of chlorine was wonderful. So was the sound of Carl's body hitting the water. In fact, he liked it so much he dragged him out to throw him in again. Holding him under the water just long enough for him to start thrashing around, panicking, then he would let his head resurface just long enough to gulp some air before he once again held him under the water.

 

Yes, he could see the terror on his face now, could see the tears mingling with the pool water. It was one of the most mesmerising things he had ever seen. The light in his eyes getting duller each time he was held under the water, how his whole body shook and convulsed as it ran out of air. How quickly the begging started, the pleading, the promises.

 

He didn't know how many times he had held him under until it happened. Just that when he pulled him up this time Carl looked behind Jim and shouted “Stop watching, help!”

 

In his surprise Jim lost his grip on Carl and the other boy twisted away, trying to scramble over the ledge of the pool. Trying to _spoil_ his _fun!_ Before he could reach out to grab him another pair of hands beat him to it, another pair of hands held Carl tight, another pair of hands pushed Carl back into the water, and another pair of hands held him under.

 

“How long till I let him back up again Jim?”

 

Jim could only stare, John. John was here, was holding Carl under the water. Was smiling at him, was not shouting or running away or calling for help, but actually smiling at Jim while holding a boy under water. He should really let Carl come up for air again. But he was bored of that now, now John was here, and smiling. Possibilities. So many possibilities ran through his head, they could be friends. He would have someone to talk to, to plot with, to laugh with.

 

Slowly he reached his hands towards John's, then joined them in pinning Carl down, he was flailing his arms around, kicking his legs, trying to pull their joined hands off of him. But that wouldn’t last, not for long now, he was already slowing down, getting sluggish, the oxygen in his body burning up, burning, burning, burning until nothing is left. Then stillness, silence, nothing.

 

He felt wonderful, he let go of the rapidly cooling corpse and smiled up at John. John who was still smiling back at Jim.

 

“Wanna go to the park for a bit Jim? Pretty sure I can go higher than you on the swings.” His voice was even, no tremble, no shock, no worry, just genuine curiosity.

 

“We need to change and get rid of the clothes first” John just nodded and pointed over to where Jim had left his bag.

 

“I brought a spare set too, come on, lets go” He grabbed Jims hand, still smiling and lead the way.

 

Jim didn't even look back to study the body, he was fascinated by the boy next to him. So. Much. _Potential!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback?? Is the rating still ok? Does it need changing? i never know?? ha ha was the chapter ok?? Feed my soul and let me know?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I of course do not own the characters , it's a constant disappointment in my life.
> 
> This chapter was beta read by the lovely Moriartystrustywestwood

Chapter 3.

In the two years they had been friends, John had only missed a handful of days, and only when he absolutely had to. This is why Jim was currently sneaking across John’s back garden at two in the morning to climb up into his room. He needed to see if John was ok. It was like an itch under his skin, his nerve endings on fire with the need to check to see if he was ok, that he just under the weather with a cold and nothing worse.

Although John had never said it, Jim had come to the realisation quite early on in their friendship that John's father wasn't a good man. That John wore those awful jumpers more out of necessity then preference, that there was a reason John chose to come round to Jim's house as often as possible. But John had made Jim promise, made him promise not to do anything, and had told Jim he had it under control, and if Jim told anyone then John would be taken away. Jim couldn't have John taken away, he needed him. Needed him like he needed to breathe, it was that simple.

He slid John's window open and crept inside, the room was dark, stuffy, and overly warm, but Jim knew the layout. He had memorised everything he could that involved John Watson, his only friend.

“Jim? Tha' you?” Pain , that was pain in John's voice.

“What's happened? Turn the lamp on.”

Jim was already moving towards the bed when the soft glow of the lamp blinded him for a moment, and once he could see again he stopped. John had blood on him. John had a swollen face, John had bruises, John had a cut, John had a broken nose, John had his arm in a makeshift sling. John was hurt.

“Jim? Jim, I’m fine.... honestly. I'll be back in a few days when I don't look so bad.” John said weakly.

No,no,no,nononononononono NO!!! John was hurt.

He started towards the bedroom door, he knew who had done this. Jim knew he would still be here, most likely slumped over in the armchair in the living room, bottle of some cheap spirit in his hand. Most likely hadn't been to check on his son at all, most likely didn't care. But Jim cared, oh Jim cared. He cared so much he could taste it, it was bitter and sweet all rolled together, and right now it was fire; hungry, and burning. And oh how he wanted to make him burn, to pay for the pain he had caused John.

“Jim, no! Come back!” John begged, trying to get him to come back.

Jim ignored him, sentiment for an abusive father had no place in Jim's mind. It should not be in John's either, but John had always been the more human of the pair of them..

“If you kill him, they'll take me away Jim!” That made him pause, he could hear John trying to shuffle after him as best he could. Limping. Leg injury, to the ankle? Twisted or a sprain?

“Just stay there a minute Jim, my ankle is buggered, I'm coming ok, just stay there a minute.” Fine, fine, fine, fine.

If John knew even half the influence he had over Jim, it would be laughable. Jim would do anything for John, to keep John safe, to keep John happy, to see that glint in his eye when he thinks Jim has been particularly clever. He needs John safe, who else would help him with his work?

“Right, I’m here. See this is why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd go all murderous and try to get to him. But we can't yet ok? Not yet. I'm only 13, Jim. You know I can't stay with Harry and there's no one else.”

“Me, there's me.” Jim replied fiercely.

“I know Jim, I know. But Social Services wouldn't let me live with you now would they, not with your parents how they are, it would only end up getting you put into the system too if they found out.”

Jim grunted. He forgot about his parents, he forgot about them a lot really. They did the same; outwardly they put on a show, the doting parents with the genius child. But in reality, they despised him, a mistake they called him, unnatural and a freak. They left him to fend for himself, had beat him and hurt him when he was younger and was not able to defend himself.They stopped that when he killed their dog in front of them. He preferred it that way, he could do what he wanted to do for the work to progress without interruption.

“We could scare him John, we could do that. Scare him so much he wouldn't dare hurt you any more. We could hurt him a little, just a little bit you know, slowly, and ever so carefully, knives John. You've not been able to use knives in a while, let's do that. Let's play.” Jim said gleefully, grinning at John.

John's eyes lit up , as he knew they would. John loved his knives, he could make the most precise little cuts Jim had ever seen, it was like art work what John could do with a knife.

He pitched his voice lower, “Just think how much area there will be to work with John, you thought there was a lot when we killed the Labrador, but just think how much easier it's going to be on him, we won't even need to shave him.”

John's eyes closed briefly, his breathing hitching a little, and Jim smiled. John might look adorable and fluffy, harmless as angel, but Jim knew better. Jim knew that John was special, it was after all what had brought them together.

“I'm too dosed up on painkillers for knives, I'll misjudge something, and cut too deep. Come on Jim, just come back to the room. I've not been sleeping.” He sounded knackered. He wanted Jim to stay then. It wouldn't be the first time Jim had stayed over, more often than not it was John who stayed at Jim's house.

But he followed him, carefully watching to make sure he didn't stumble and fall. The anger was still rolling and twisting through him. This wasn't right, wasn't ok, this should never have happened. It wouldn't again, he would make sure of it.

He lay on the bed next to John, plotting and planning. He couldn't inflict the total annihilation that he craved, John had been right, he could not risk John being taken away. But he could scare, he could plant fear into the very core of Mr Watson, enough terror that he would never lay a finger on John again, no matter how drunk he got.

Soon John's breathing deepened and evened out into sleep. He waited a little longer until he was sure John wouldn't wake, then eased himself out of the bed, out of the room and down the hall, downstairs into the living room.

He had assumed correctly, Mr Watson was slumped in his chair, illuminated by the light of the tv, bottle of what looked to be Tescos' brand gin gripped loosely in his hand, pretty much empty. Jim wrinkled his nose in distaste. How this man had managed to produce something as wondrous as John, he would never know.

He kicked the chair, but Mr Watson didn't stir, so he kicked Mr Watson instead, as hard as he could in the knee, making him jerk upright and drop the bottle of gin.

“Mr Watson, I would advise against shouting or lashing out.” He kept his voice even, cold and distant.

“Jimmy? Wha'? Wha' ya doin' down 'ere kid?” He hated being called Jimmy, even more so when it came from this cretins foul smelling mouth.

“I've come to have a chat Mr Watson, about John”

Mr Watson blinked slowly, as though it was difficult to comprehend that Jim was actually in front of him.

“John's fine, Jimmy. He fell down some stair's 'e did, but 'e'll be right.”

Jim chuckled, a slow dark sound from deep in his chest designed to instil unease, and by the way Mr Watson frowned, it was doing its job.

“Oh how original, Mr Watson,” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, it flowed through the room, coloured with his complete hatred for the sorry excuse of a man in front of him.

“I've already seen John. I would advise you to leave him alone from here on out. I've had enough.”

“Now 'old on a damn minute -”

“No, you hold on Mr Watson,” He cut him off smoothly, “I assure you, if you do harm John again, it will be the end of you.”

“I dunno wha' you think 'as 'appened, or wha' John 'as said, but 'e fell. Even if I 'ad wanted ta discipline ma boy, it wouldn'a be nothin' to do with ya now would it?” Mr Watson slurred, face twisting with anger at Jim’s words.

“Oh, but that is where you are wrong, Mr Watson. It has everything to do with me. John is my friend. He is important to my work. I need him to be healthy and whole to proceed as planned. You underestimate how essential John is. So this cannot be allowed to continue any more. Do you understand me?” Jim asked, voice dark.

“An' wha' is a little pipsqueak like you gonna do eh? If ya report us, he'll deny it won' 'e? Don't wanna leave 'is little boyfriend does 'e” Anger and distaste was seeping into Mr.Watson’s voice, along with a hint of victory. He thought he was winning? Oh how quaint.

“I would love nothing more then to show you what I could do, Mr.Watson. But you see, I can show restraint and control myself. But if you like, I could tell you? I could explain in detail what I will do to you.” He smiled, showing teeth, he knew it unnerved people when he did so.

“Firstly I would tie you down, wouldn't want you running away, now would we? Then I think I may rather enjoy removing your fingernails, one by one. It rather hurts I assure you, I did it once, just to see,” He held up his left hand, showing him the empty nail bed.

“It takes a while for them to grow back in, you know. Then I'd move onto the fingers themselves. I'd cripple you Mr Watson, I'd do it in a heartbeat and not feel a single shred of sorrow or remorse for it. Next would be your wrists.”

Jim paused, watching Mr.Watson’s reaction. He was listening, but was he believing?

“Do you know how it feels to break a finger, Mr.Watson?”

He reached out, carefully taking Mr.Watson's right hand in his own, caressing it, holding it as gently as possible.

“I imagine it would feel something like this.” He twisted the middle finger sharply to the left until he heard it snap. Mr.Watson let out a stream of curse words, trying to pull his hand back towards him.

“I would do this to every one of your fingers Mr Watson, I would crush your wrists, break your elbows, crush your ribs. I would hurt you so much you would beg me to stop. But I wouldn't. Oh no, I wouldn't at all, you see, because I've warned you. I've been nice, have I not? Giving you this chance to see how you can stop this?”

He pulled on the finger slowly, letting it bend more to the side until the bone was pressing against the skin, slowly, slowly starting to pierce its way through the skin. How this was fascinating, it was beautiful, it was divine.

“I'd let John help too, he is rather skilled with a knife, it's really something else to watch him work. I would tell him which organs to remove, all while keeping you conscious to watch. Do you like kidney pie, Mr.Watson?”

Mr.Watson threw up. Jim's smile stretched across his face.

“I trust we have an understanding now, Mr.Watson?”

The man groaned, “Yesssss”.

Jim headed back to John's room, climbed back into the bed and lay next to him.

There really was nothing that he wouldn't do to keep John safe and happy, close to him forever. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How're we liking it so far? I've not done a multi chapter before so any feedback would be fab!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim isn't keen on the blonde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies.  
>  I once again own nothing ( well I have two dogs, but I'd say we're more like housemates rather then I own them).  
>  John and Jim on the other hand, do not live with me, nor are they real.  
>  This chapter is once again beta read by the lovely Moriartystrustywestwood.

Chapter 4.

A few months later finds Jim watching John talking to a girl. Jim hadn't bothered to remember her name, but she was becoming a nuisance. She’d taken to following John around, practically begging for his attention. Yet, John seemed to be flattered by her pathetic attempts at flirting. It was becoming very tiresome, very quickly. Jim wanted it to stop.

John belonged to him, he was Jim's. Jim was not one to share his things, people tended to break things which they borrowed, or worse. Trying to fix them if they noticed a crack and John had a beautiful crack in his soul. One which Jim would very much like to keep there, maybe widen, perhaps make more little cracks.

She was smiling and reaching out to put her hand on John's arm. Jim's eyes narrowed dangerously, the silly little bint was being far too bold. This was just a momentary distraction for John, Jim was sure of it. It wouldn't last much longer, and when he grew bored, he would return his attentions fully back to Jim, staying as close to him as Jim wanted him to.

Jim longed to be as close to John as he could get, he wanted to work his way under John's skin, into his nerve endings and veins, wiggle himself into the little gaps between ligaments and sinew, wrap himself around the muscles and embed himself into the very marrow of John’s bones. He wanted to consume everything that he was, he wanted to take him apart and see how he worked, then carefully, ever so carefully reassemble him and keep him close to himself.

John was laughing, head thrown back, hair almost glowing in the sun with that beautiful sound escaping his mouth. All because of the girl. It wouldn't do, it couldn't be allowed to carry on. It NEEDED to STOP.

“John! I need you a moment” He called out; just loud enough to know John would hear him.

As John ambled over waving goodbye to the girl, Jim felt an irrational sense of victory. He knew his feelings for John had developed beyond their friendship, but he didn't understand what it had changed into. All he knew was that John was to be with him, as much as possible.

“Jim?” The question was clear in John's voice.

“We need to go, we've got plans, we need to get those test papers copied and pass them onto Sam to be sold.” He spoke quietly so no one else would hear.

They'd recently started to do this. Break into the teacher's offices, pick the locks on the locked file cabinets and quickly copy the answer papers to upcoming tests. It was easy to organise; he and John got the papers, copied them and then passed them along to one of Jim's acquaintances to sell to the students. Soon Jim planned on hiring someone else to break into the offices, to remove himself and John as far as possible from it.

“Oh bugger, I’d actually forgotten about that,” John chuckled. “Come on then, they'll mostly be on a cig break or stuffing their face, best be quick though before they finish.”

~~~~~~~

That evening they lay together on Jim's shed roof, a bottle of cider in-between them, almost half empty. Jim closed his eyes and smiled. This, this is what he desired. Just this forever. Just himself and John with no one else interfering, especially not that girl from earlier.

He frowned. Does John actually like her?

“Wha’s up with you grumpy pants?” John slurred ever so slightly.

Jim paused before he replied. Should he mention it, ask? What if John said he liked her? What if John wanted to spend more time with her? He might leave Jim.

“Jim?” John's voice was closer.

He opened his eyes to find John had rolled over to face him and propped himself up on his elbow.

“Do you like her?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. He frowned some more.

John looked momentarily baffled. “Like who?”

“Oh don't play dense John, it's unbecoming. That blonde bint that's been following you around lately.” That was not petulance creeping into his voice. It wasn't.

“Mary? I guess she's ok. Tad annoying though to tell the truth, why'd you ask?”

“Why is she annoying?” He ignored John's question.

“Pretty sure she has a crush on me or something like that.” John mused.

“And you don't feel the same?” He raised an eyebrow quizzically, it had looked like John was fine with the flirting, had looked as though he had been enjoying it.

Frowning John shook his head, “A bit of flirting isn't too bad, but she just won't take the hint, I’m not like that.”

“Like what?”

John blushed, “You know, like that. Not my kind of thing really”

He was making no sense, what kind of thing? Like what???

“You must know?” John sighed, eyes cast downwards, “Her, not my kind of person really.”

Jim was getting irritated now. Why couldn't he just talk properly? Why the riddles?

“Fine,” He bit out, “forget I asked”

“What? Jim? You honestly don't know?” John sounded puzzled.

Jim just shook his head and returned to staring at the stars. People irritated him, but it was rare that John did. Normally they were on the same page. They knew what the other was thinking or planning. They just knew, so why was it so difficult now?

Is this what people meant when they would say they grew apart from someone? Did it start with subtle things like this?

He was losing John. The thought made his something in his chest seem to tighten and his mind cried out at the idea. He would be alone again, bored, adrift in life. Would John be happy, with that girl?

A mumbled “fuck it” came a split second before John's face loomed over his, he blinked, then pressed his lips quickly to Jim's before he lay back down.

“Now do you get it?” He asked. “It's you Jim; you're my kind of person.”

Jims mind raced. He was John's kind of person. John wanted him rather than the blonde?

“You're not gay though John.” He blurted.

“Nope.” John smiled at him. “It's only you Jim.”

Jim just stared, not knowing what to say or do. He watched as John's smile faded and red crept up his neck, to his ears, then spread across his cheeks.

“Erm, I mean, that is, if erm... you know.... it's fine if not, all fine.... I just thought you should know really.... and I …. I , I think I’m gonna go actually. I'll...... I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” He started to slide to the edge of the roof, ready to jump down, to leave and to go home, away from Jim.

Jim, who was still frozen staring at John, stared at John who was moving further and further away.  
No! That wasn't right. John shouldn't leave, he should stay, close, he should always be near to Jim. Forever. His arm shot out and wrapped around John's bicep, slightly squeezing and holding him in place. John was refusing to look at him.

He'd waited too long to react.

“Stay.” He whispered, “Stay here. With me, and stay away from her. You're mine.”

John shivered and closed his eyes, when he opened them again he smiled.  
“Always, Jim.”

And Jim felt something, something warm and fierce. John was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how're we finding it so far??? Feedback as always , is what feeds my soul.


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The army?? But why would John want to go??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, i knowwwww.....  
>  It's been forever since i last updated! I was away for x-mas, then was working all new years ect, so was a bit tricky getting the chapter to a point where i was happy with it.
> 
> Once again the lovely   
>  Moriartystrustywestwood 
> 
> has Beta'd for me :)

Chapter 5.

 

It was a few months before John's 16th birthday that he mentioned the army. They had argued for over an hour about it, but John was adamant; he would join the army and train to be a surgeon.

 

Jim was now refusing to acknowledge any of it. If John joined, he would leave. Sure he would be training for a few years, but what are a few years to Jim? Jim doesn't want a few years, Jim wants John's _eternity_.

 

“You said you were _mine_. That means never leaving, John. If you do this, you'll be leaving.”

 

John sighed, “Jim, please. I can't afford the school fees, the army is my best shot at becoming a doctor. You know you'll need one once you're set up properly. And in all honesty, I really don't want anyone else's hands on you unless they have to be.”

 

John was right, Jim knew this. They couldn't afford John's school fees, and they would need a doctor once they had set up the business. But the army? It would take John far away from him. Into a _war zone_ where he could get _killed_.

 

“We will find another way if you do this, John. Then that's it, I won't be waiting around like some lovesick idiot for a letter to say you've been stupid and gotten yourself killed out there.” He kept his voice firm, serious and cold.

 

Inside though, he felt like he was on fire, his chest burning, and he felt like his heart was turning to ash. John would leave. And if he did, Jim really wouldn't sit around and wait. He did, after all, have an empire to create.

 

It was simple really; if John loved him, he would stay.

 

“You don't mean that.” John's voice was barely above a whisper, face twisting into a mask of misery.

 

When Jim didn't reply, John shook his head, sighed and said, “Fine Jim. You win, as usual.”

 

Strange then, that Jim didn't feel like he had won. If anything it seemed like he'd somehow managed to lose.

 

–-----

 

The next time John mentioned joining the army was 2 months after he turned 17.

 

They had been walking in the town centre, looking for likely places to find what Jim called “hoppers”. Young runaways, looking for their next hit of whichever drug they had chosen. Jim found them to be useful in passing messages along to the various crime bosses around London.

It kept him and John out of the picture, while ensuring that he had his fingers firmly on the pulse of what was happening around the city.

 

It shouldn't be long until he can launch his first move. Only a small one to start with, just to see the reactions of the other bosses. But if all went to plan it wouldn't be long until he would be in control of his own neighbourhood.

 

“Jim? You listening?” John was frowning at him.

 

He hadn't been listening, he had been too engrossed in searching and planning.

 

“Look, I know you don't like it, but I really think it's the best way.” John sounded calm, but the way he licked his lips betrayed his nervousness.

 

“If I won't like it, it's not the best way.” He still had no idea what John was on about, he glanced around to see if there was anything which could have caught John's attention.

 

And there it was. Army recruitment stand.

 

Suddenly Jim was furious, he spun around and shoved John down an alley, pinning him to the wall.

 

“I said _no_ Johnny Boy. I _told_ you. Oh I diddddd,” He sang, voice dangerously low, “ _why_? Why would you even want to? Am I not enough? I will find the money, you will stay. If you do go.... well....”

 

John was gasping, pulling at his arm, trying to get it away from his neck. In fact, he looked quite fetching like this. Helpless, struggling for air. But not afraid. No, not his John. HE wouldn't do something so _mundane_ as be afraid.

 

He pitched his voice lower, into an almost growl, “But if you do go Johnny.... I won't wait. I told you last time. I. Will. Not. Wait........ we will be done, dusted, gone, finished, I'll put the kibosh on us. Nail the coffin shut so tightly that even a measly little worm wouldn't get in there to feast on our remains.”

 

John nodded, Jim pressed tighter on this throat for a few more moments before releasing him. Then was thrown into the opposite wall, closely followed by John.

 

John who was gasping his name, pushing up against him and raining sharp little kisses, such sweet sweet kisses, all teeth and tongue. It felt like fire where they touched, cold icy fire, burning through the layers of skin cells, touching against his nerve endings, sending delicious shockwaves throughout his body.

 

“John. We're in an alley.” He managed to keep his voice surprisingly even.

 

John paused, pulling away from him, confusion written clearly across his face.

 

“Oh don't be so moronic, John. I only wanted to point out that in general, you shy away from public displays?”

He watched John smirk, inching closer until he was almost touching him, “Let's get home then.”

 

It was Jim's turn to grin, he knew they would be lucky to make it through the front door before he had John on his knees.

 

\- - - - - - -

 

“I'm sorry Jim, I am. But you've got to understand. This is what _needs_ to be done. I'm no use to you unless I do this!” He was shouting, face twisted in agony, eyes pleading for Jim to accept this.

 

But Jim wouldn't. He couldn't. Nope, not happening. He had _warned_ John. Warned him countless times that if he went down this route, then there was no coming back from it. They would be done.

 

“Jim, just say something please? I've only got half hour then I've got to go”

 

Pleading, begging, basically whimpering. All things which John should never do, yet here he is. Begging for Jim to speak. To accept this. To say it was ok. That he would be waiting, like some stupid, _stupid_ bloody _idiot_.

 

No,no,no,nooooo,nooooooooo.

 

He wouldn’t. Couldn't. Won't.He refused.

 

His chest hurt, felt like it was constricting tighter and tighter. Was this heart break? Is that what it was? This numbness which ate away at his very soul, while his heart was burning, flames racing throughout his body, burning everything they touched. Until there was only embers left, cooling rapidly, cooler, and cooler.

 

“Jim, love?” Hands on his face? Why would he be touching his face. “It won't be long, few years training, then a quick tour. I'll be able to come home on leave. We can still see each other.”

 

He shook his head, dislodging the hands, hands he didn't want near him ( oh but he didddddd, he wanted those hands alllll over ). Didn't want John near him, didn't want to be near John.

 

“You've made your choice.” His voice sounded hollow, devoid of emotion. It made John wince.

 

“I choose you Jim, I'll always choose you. You have my heart, nothing will change that. But this needs to be done. Just look at what happened to Duke last week. We need a doctor, this is the best way for me to become one.” said John, voice cracking towards the end, emotion rife throughout it.

 

“ _Choose me_? You're _leaving_. So go. Take your heart with you.” He snarled in John's face, “Just TAKE IT WITH YOUUUU!!!! I don't need it, never needed it. Nope. Why would I? Go. Go, go gogogooooo awayyyyyyy.”

 

He could see the devastation on John's face, but it was nothing to what he felt. He'd make sure he would never feel like this again. It was a weakness that he couldn't afford.

 

“I. SAID. GO!” He screamed, pushing John towards his duffel bag, pushing until John grabbed it and backed towards the door.

 

“I love you Jim, I'll be back. I'll come find you when I’m home, we'll be ok, you'll see that I did this for us.” Tears drenched his voice, making it hitch in strange places. Jim liked it. It showed John was hurting. Hurting how Jim was.

 

Then he left, John left. He left Jim.

 

Jim was alone. For the first time he could remember since first meeting John, he was alone, no one to call on, to rely on. To talk to about their day, to plan and plot with. To create an empire with.

 

A short sharp sob escaped him before he managed to get himself back under control. He had no use for self indulgence, it would slow him down. He had things to do, people to see, places to check out. _Lives_ to _ruin_.

 

He giggled, then giggled again when he realised he had been standing in the same place for hours. Actual hours had passed since John had left, it was now dark outside. The giggles turned into a full bodied laugh, ripping out of him.

 

John had gone to the army, had chosen it over Jim. It was fine.

The laughs became louder, longer, until he was screeching and screaming, pulling his nails down his face, pulling at his hair.

 

 _IT WAS ALLLLLL FINEEEEEE_.

 

Well , it would be soon enough.

 

He was still screaming 2 hours later as he systematically cracked each rib on Big Paul, was still screaming and laughing as he carved pretty smiley faces into Big Paul's skin. He was in hysterics as Big Paul begged him to stop, begged him to let him live.

 

He was finally silent when Big Paul had told him where to find all the paperwork for his side of the business. Finally silent while listening to the air whooshing in and out of Big Paul's ruined chest, listening as his lungs slowly flooded with blood.

 

He didn't need John. He didn't need this ruined twisted pile of ash which had once been his heart, home to his love for John Watson.

 

He didn't need any of it, or anyone. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

 

He quite liked the shade of Big Paul's blood however. It would look rather nice in the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you're thoughts are welcomed! I need to know if you like how the story is progressing so far?   
>  Also... kudos and comments feed my soul , no kidding, without them i mayyyyyyy actually wither up and die.... it would be all you're lots fault.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay my lovlies!  
>  Few RL issues i've had to sort out. But should hopefully be back on track a bit more now!

Chapter 6

 

 

There was a darkness in him, he could feel it, slowly spreading, like some sort of blood virus , searching out every nook and cranny in his body. Embedding itself deeper and deeper into his soul and the cavity where his heart used to be, filling it, replacing the ash and dust and broken parts with something _better. Something_ stronger.

And rather than try to fight it, to try to force it away or lock it up in little box, in a small dark space in his mind. He revelled in it, urged it to move faster, to seep into him, to devour anything that was left of the _old_ Jim.

He would become a new Jim, a better Jim. A Jim people would be terrified to cross. A Jim people wouldn't _dare_ to leave. In fact, he might just kill them if they tried to leave.

His business would be like a family. And you only left family once you shook loose of you're mortal coil.

And people who tried to leave would be dealt with accordingly, never again would there be a John. John had his chance, and he left, Jim let him live, out of some misguided sense of sentiment, of _love._ But no one will get that close again.

 

And so Jim built his empire, fashioned himself as a Consulting Criminal, quite a catchy title if you asked him. Even better as he was the only one to hold the position. He recruited people to his little family, which grew and grew, until he had an extended family, with in-laws and cousins and nieces and recently he had acquired his own personal _assassin!_

 

And he was fine.

 

Well, there were many definitions of fine, but he was all or one of them at any given moment in time. Always _fineeeeeee._

 

He didn't think about John. Not really. It had been _years_ since he had gone into the army. And sureeeeee, Jim may have, possibly, just a teeny tiny bit, kept an eye on him. It was a bit of a boon when Moran had ended up coming back to the UK.

 

Out of work and all alone, Jim just had to take pity on the poor soul, embrace him into the loving arms of his family, and all he wanted in return for this wondrous gift. Was for Moran to be his. To work only for Jim, to answer only to Jim and leave his old life behind.

 

Which Moran had done willingly. Jim was as close to happy as he could get. Except for the boredom. Jim hated being bored, it ate away at his mind, niggling and naggling and just _rotting_ it away.

 

His empire was established, no one would challenge him any more, no one would even make an attempt on his life now he had Moran with him. It was dull, he began to play with certain terrorist groups, finding out some rather sensitive information which the government would rather not be leaked.

But if people would be so idiotic to have weak links in their employment.... well.... it was practically _inviting_ him to have a little look around really wasn't it?

 

But lately, just lately, Jim had noticed a new player. Someone who could actually entertain him, shame about those pesky drugs. Drugs which were bought indirectly from Jim. But it was fun to watch his little ant, scurrying from post to post trying to solve little crimes while his big beautiful brain was seeped in mushy glowyness.

 

That police guy may be an issue though, trying to get Sherlock sober, he was in fact, refusing to have Sherlock around crime scenes or let him assist on cases. Could be interesting to see what Sherlock would do. Addiction was an awful habit to try break.

 

There was time to plan, time to plot and time to set the wheel into motion. Sherlock had managed to stay sober and was assisting on various cases. And Jim , well Jim was ready now, to make his first move. To set the game into motion.

 

He sent a message to Jeff, poor miserable Jeff, who just happened to be dying, who also happened to have some offspring he would much like to leave some money to. Jim, out of the kindness of his dust cavity, would help poor miserable Jeff.

 

All Jeff would need to do, is play a game of his own, a game of _chance._ Jim smiled to himself, oh it would be lovely, it would be one of his smaller artworks, but it would slowly draw the attention of a certain consulting detective.

 

He smiled to himself, it had been too long since he last played with poisons. It might even take months to perfect. Oh! And he would need test subjects.

 

It was while he was rounding the subjects into control groups that Moran appeared in the doorway, frowning and fidgeting.

 

“Boss?”

 

Jim scowled, everyone knew not to disturb him while he was working.

 

“I know Boss..... but you might wanna hear this” Moran inched closer into the room, feet light on the tile floor.

 

“It's that doctor yo-.” Moran was cut off by Jim`s hand around his throat.

 

“I've told you never to mention him , he is nothing, he doesn't exist here!” Jim snarled, spittle flying and misting onto Moran's face.

 

“He... he... argh, Boss!He's been hit!” he managed to choke out.

 

“I said SHUT UPPPPPP. He's not _real!_ He died a long time ago, and he's bloody well staying dead. _**NOW GO!**_ Before I decide that I no longer find you useful”

 

Moran fled, the subjects were cowering in a corner. It was no good, he couldn't concentrate like this. Not in these conditions.

 

He screamed at the subjects, worthless little ants that they were, they cowered. But it did nothing to sooth him. Pathetic little ants.

 

He stormed from the room, heading towards his private rooms, people moved away from him, scurrying away from him, like he was something to be _feared_. And he was. Jim was the most fearsome thing in London these days. And he relished in it.

 

Trust John to go and ruin his mood, despite not even being there. Despite possibly now being dead. Still managing to torment Jim from beyond the grave.

 

It wouldn't do.... people _died._ It was nothing new, it's what people _do_. And John had been dead to Jim for years. Had been dead to him the moment he had swanned off and joined the bloody army, chosen it over Jim and the life they could have had.

 

So why was Jim reacting like this?

 

He stood, breathing heavily in his living room, the walls no longer the lovely shade of red which matched Big Pauls blood, now they were grey. Jim liked grey, It was a soothing colour, like ash, like so many remains of the lives he had burned over the years.

 

“He doesn't _exist_ ” he snarled to himself, “he doesn't _matter_ anymore”

he started to pace around the room, pulling his phone out, contemplating. But no, he didn't need him, never did, nope. Let him die, let him finally be gone, gone so that he won't ever come back.

 

Screaming he threw the phone at the wall, getting a childish sense of satisfaction as it broke into pieces. No temptation now. He wouldn't let this ruin him. He had work to do, a game to set into motion, and he wouldn't let John bloody Watson weasel his way into his life again. Not even if it was his death.

 

Mind made up, he smiled and danced into the hallway, humming as he went back to his subjects.

 

Time to _work!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always i'm eager to hear what you guys think!   
>  Kudos and comments feed the soul! ( well what little i have of one anyway)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So.... John's back.... Jim's not bothered..... honestly ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual i've taken forever to update! I'm sorry my lovlies! Hopefully this chapter will be enough of an apology? 
> 
> As always, i don't own these guys ( sigh ) They all belong to the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.

Chapter 7.

 

Jim no longer answered his phone, he had Moran do it for him. John had somehow gotten hold of Jim's number, and then proceeded to bombard him with text messages and phone calls.

 

“Jim, I’m back in London”

“Jim, can I see you”

“Jim, I need to talk to you”

“Stop sulking and text back”

“I know this is you're number you plank”

“Why won't you answer?”

“Jim! Talk to me”

And on and on and onnnnnn.

 

He could just change his number, but where was the fun in that? Let him suffer, let him think he had moved on. Which he had. Completely.

 

He hadn't had doctors report back to him with John's progress in the hospital. He hadn't had people follow John around after his release. He had in fact ignored anything to do with John. Had shoved his growing need to see him away into a dark corner of his mind.

 

“So I get them to choose a pill? Then what? I take the other one?” Jeff, the dying cabbie looked perplexed.

 

“Then you take the other pill you idiot” Honestly, what other course of action would there be?

 

“But then how'd I stay alive?”

 

Jim tried hard not to imagine how Jeff would look with Jim peeling that gormless look off him, the flesh slowly revealing the muscles and sinew hidden under that pale wrinkled skin.

 

“Well, do you want to?”

 

Jeff looked , if it was possible, even more gormless.

 

“Want to Boss?”

 

Jim rolled his eyes, “ Stay aliveeeeeee Jeff old chap. Would you want to?”

 

He could piece by piece remove the muscles, to show the creamy whiteness of the skull.

 

“Of course Boss, but how?” Surely he couldn't be this stupid?

 

“Antidote you moron. You'd take the antidote before you picked them up”

 

Jeff smiled, “Oh that's genius that is Boss!”

 

Jim smiled, a slow fiendish thing that he let slowly creep across his face. He could get a saw and cut into the skull. Expose the brain matter, if he did it right, good old Jeff would still be alive, he could see if he could spot the synapses responding to stimuli.

 

He watched as Jeff's smile faded, watched as he started to look uncomfortable , watched as he looked around the room to see if anyone would help.

 

“Oh Jeff.... if you only knew the things I can think up” He crooned , “But that's for another time I think. Shame. Off you pop, things to do old boy! Times a-tickin`!”

 

And off Jeff scurried, practically falling out of the door in his haste to escape the meeting room , and more specifically. Jim.

 

Jim enjoyed the reactions he caused in people. He unnerved them, set their teeth on edge, made them think he was _wrong_ in some way. He had learned how to use it to his advantage a long time ago, carefully honing it until he could walk into a room and cause every eye to skim over him, careful not to make eye contact just in case they somehow “set him off”.

 

What they failed to realise, is that he's always been a bit odd. A bit mental, a bit off his rocker, a bit likely to _remove_ some ones eyes if he thought they had looked at him wrong. And he had, he had done that and so much more to people on his climb to the top. And now he was at the top, he could play as much as he liked, and no one would stop him. They wouldn't even try to.

 

Which was why he was bored, why he had to start making his move in the game against Sherlock and that pompous prat of a brother of his.

 

He sighed eyeing the room, it was empty now except for him, no sound but for the whispers in his mind. Telling him to shout, to scream, to smash things, to see how much blood someone can consume before they vomit. To see how long some ones nervous system is once taken from the body. So many things he fights the urge to do on a daily basis.

 

But it's the best kind of battle, he thrives on it. He is his own best opponent.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

Surprisingly Jeff had done his job brilliantly. Sherlock had latched onto the suicides, was obsessing over them even more so since the last one tried to leave a note.

 

Of course, Jeff was now useless, he would need to be taken care of. But Jim wanted to play a little more first, so he sent Jeff off to take Sherlock and get him to take the pill. He didn't think Sherlock would, but he knew the other man would have a desire to see if his choice was right. Jim was curious to see what the outcome would be. He had someone on standby close by with the antidote, couldn't have Sherly bowing out too soon. He was only just getting started.

 

What he hadn't counted on was finding out that John was now Sherlock's room mate. Living with Sherlock. Their bloody landlady thought they were together! Jealousy flashed hot and fast through Jim at the thought, images of Sherlock _touching_ and _kissing_ John. Of John gasping Sherlock's name, pulling on his hair like he used to to Jim's. Sherlock wouldn't know how to please him, wouldn't know that John liked to be bitten and scratched, to be made to _bleed._

 

Only Jim knew these things, only Jim knew how much John was twisted and broken and dark and how he had the same _wrongness_ as Jim

 

Jim could feel the anger, the fury and worst of all, the possessiveness running under his skin, he wanted to scratch it out, to pull and pull on his veins until there was nothing left, to purge John bloody Watson from his body.

 

He stalked the length of the room, cursing and muttering to himself, ignoring the others in the room until Moran spoke into his phone.

 

“Boss? Hope is down, someone shot him before he could get Holmes to take the pill”

 

Jim paused, turned slowly to look at Moran, who stood, straight and handed the phone to him.

 

“Wilson here Boss. Couldn't get a proper look at the shooter, but seemed to be a short guy, light hair. Gotta say Boss, he's a bloody good shot. Not many marksmen coulda made the shot, musta had some kind of training I reckon.”

 

“Don't sound impressed Wilson, he was a better shot than you ever were even before he went to war.” he snapped, then threw the phone across the room, narrowly missing a womans head.

 

“Out! OUTTTTTTT!!!” he screamed at them, “Move, now! Last one to leave is my new plaything”

 

They ran, scurrying like little bugs, waiting, just waiting to be stomped all over. He could hear his breathing turn erratic.

 

He stalked forwards, they were pushing and shoving at each other to get away from him, to squeeze through the door as quickly as possible. But finally there was only one person left.

 

A crying woman, blonde, small.... perfect, Jim pulled a knife from his pocket, let it catch the light and glint prettily ,showing it to the woman.

 

“It's nothing personal. Honestly. But you see...... there's a game to play” He smiled happily as she cringed away from him.

 

“I'll make you pretty, just a few cuts here and there” he punctuated his words with carefully traced cuts along her face, slowly moving down her arms. “I'll show you how you work, no one knows people better than I do love.”

 

She was sobbing now, making little moans between gasps, it was almost pornographic.

 

He started to peel away the flesh on her forearm, slowly so as not to damage the muscles underneath too badly, he had the wrong knife really, but it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.

 

John would understand if his gift was a little sloppy.

 

After all, he was the one who had made the first move.

 

Jim grinned, a huge beautiful smile which made his face light up. The woman sobbed harder. It didn't matter.

 

John Watson wanted to _play_.

 

And Jim was happy to oblige him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... how was it? Did you like it?   
>  Yes i'm needy ha ha!  
>  Comments and kudos feed my soul and help with writing more! ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little foray into Jim's day during The Blind Banker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day guys! Please read the tags and the rest of this note before reading!
> 
> Descriptions of torture and violence using acid , pliers, bolt cutters and knives... if that's not you're kind of thing then i'd skip it... i'll leave a quick summary in the bottom notes.
> 
> As always, i don't own these guys... it's a sad and horrible truth that i have to live with each and every day.

 

Chapter 8.

 

Jim was in a good mood, he knew it was a bad idea to start this game with John, it could only end badly. But it was just too hard to resist.

He was still entertaining Sherlock's little attempts too, it was frankly adorable to watch Sherly run all over the city trying to solve his puzzles, John gamely trailing behind him. It irked Jim that John would so willingly follow Sherlock. Why would he want to? Were they actually friends? Lovers?

 

But he had pushed those thoughts to a side and had started the new game a few days ago, although he had little involvement now it had begun, only needing to keep in touch with his contact every now and again to keep up to date on its progression. Which so far seemed to be going according to plan and soon Sherlock should be getting rather inconvenienced down an old tunnel.

 

He was more interested in his game with John. John had seemed delighted when he had received Jim's gift of the Pronator Teres and Flexor Carpi Radialis muscles , two of John's favourite muscles from the arm.

 

He'd delivered them anonymously to the surgery where John was currently working, it wouldn't do to have Sherlock notice and start sniffing around. Not when things were just starting to get interesting.

 

John had known they were from him anyway, he'd sent a text a few minutes after receiving them.

 

“Glad to see you still remember who I am.

Got a bit worried for a bit there you plank.

I miss you.

Let's play?

J x”

 

Jim hadn't replied, that's not how he was playing. He had sent a gift, a little welcome home present if you will. But he was not going to try win John away from Sherlock, it was John who had left. So it would be John putting the effort in. Jim had other things to be dealing with.

 

Such as some insufferable little prat giving information to Regent, who fancied himself as a rival for the crown. The information passed along wasn't of any importance really, small fry stuff. It was the _principle_ of the matter.

 

Which was why he was currently stood in his favourite room, waiting. He loved it in here, the walls, ceiling and floor all a nice white tile. A single lone light hung from the ceiling, bulb left bare, just because Jim liked the effect it created. He loved to add a bit of flair to things. Such as the bigger than needed drain in the centre of the room. Although the drain was also practical, much easier to clean up afterwards.

 

He surveyed his little table of tools. Only a few knives, they had never been his strong point. But he had vials of different solutions to play with, poisons, acids, some if mixed together would create gases. He also had a pair of pliers, bolt cutters and some rather lovely shiny slivers of metal that he wanted to play with.

 

The door banged open, announcing the arrival of Moran and Wilson dragging in a bound and gagged dark haired man. Jim smiled, _play time_.

 

“Got him Boss. Thought he'd be able to run, but he was right where you said he'd be”

 

“Thank you Moran, you're efficiency is as always, appreciated. Now, if you could pop Mr....” Jim trailed off. He hadn't bothered to ask for a name.

 

“Mr Cadance Boss”

 

“Pop Mr. Cadance into the chair please Moran, we don't want to be rude now do we?” Moran nodded and moved the struggling man to sit upright in the chair at the centre of the room. Once done Moran and Wilson left, most likely to stand outside the room.

 

“Soooooooo Mr Cadance! How lovely of you to agree to this meeting, I assume you know why you're here?” Jim sang as he strolled over to remove the gag. “Mr Cadance is a bit of a mouthful really isn't it? Mind if I just call you Cady?”

 

When the man made no move to reply Jim shrugged, “You're not a mute are you? Oh surely not! I heard that you can sing such a pretty tune if you want to!”

 

Still no reply. Jim leaned down in front of the man. “I really would advise you to answer me Cady. It would be much easier for you if you did.”

 

The man still refused to say anything, hadn't so much as shrugged. Either he was very brave or very stupid, Jim was willing to bet it was the latter.

 

Humming he turned and headed towards the table. He wanted to dive in with his vials, but over time he had learned to save those till later, torture was a work of art, but it took time and patience. The real problem now, was if he should ease poor Cady into it, or just go in guns blazing.

 

After a quick glance at the silent man, Jim decided to start slowly, he could savour it a bit more then.

 

Smiling he made his way back towards him, carefully twirling the pliers in his hand, “Wanna find out what fun things I can do with this Cady? All you need to do is explain _why_ you thought it would be a good idea to turn spy for Regent?”

 

Still silence, although Cady had started to tremble slightly, oh this was going to be _fun._

 

Inching closer Jim`s smile grew wider. “Anything you want to say Cady? Just between us boys?” Jim stopped when his feet knocked into the other mans, “Anything you'd like to get of you're chest? Maybe you found out a few of Regent's secrets? If you wanted to share them with me, you could you know.” Jim winked, “I wouldn't tell a soul”

 

The man had grown pale but still never uttered a sound. Oh well! He'd soon be begging to be able to speak.

 

Jim lunged forwards and gripped the man`s left hand, spreading it flat so the fingers were straight, than raised the pliers , making sure Cady would see.

 

“I'm preeeeeety sure you know what's going to happen next” Cady nodded stiffly, once down and once up, “Anything you'd like to say before we continue?” A shake this time, once left, once right.

 

“Oh Cady, you've made my day sweetheart”

 

The pliers snapped out and gripped on the index nail, forcing their way between the nail and the soft flesh under it until Jim felt he had ample grip to start pulling. Cady was making some small soft noises of distress. They became slightly louder as Jim pulled a little harder, slowly forcing the nail to detach from the nail bed, skin tearing delicately and leaving little welts of blood to slowly bubble up to the surface.

 

Jim watched as Cady developed a light sheen of sweat on his face, eyes pinched in pain. “You realise that was nothing? Not even a drop in the ocean of pain I’m going to deliver to you unless you start talking.”

 

“I've got nothing to say” Cady spat at Jim.

 

Jim chuckled, then pulled another two nails. When he finished Cady's fingers had began to twitch in an erratic little dance.

 

“Still nothing to say?” Cady shook his head again, but Jim fancied it was with less conviction this time.

 

“You know I can be much more creative than this if you want? You should see what I can do with a pair of bolt cutters, you know if you get the right size they can cut right through bone? I did this thing once, peeled away the skin from the ribs just enough to get the bone exposed. Than, I got the bolt cutters in there and it cut through the bone like a twig. It was beautiful to watch. Really, you had to see it to understand just _how_ beautiful it was.”

 

Cady's eyes had widened in fear, a twitch starting up under his right eye and sweat gathering above his lip.

 

Jim grinned, his eyes lighting up in his excitement, “You know there are organs that you can remove and the body will still carry on? Bit tricky without a proper doctor on hand to help with the more fiddly bits, but it can be done. Quick snip here, rearrange a little there and get those pesky arteries cauterised off and you've got yourself a lovely kidney, they can fetch quite a bit of money from the right people too! It's a win-win situation all round really”

 

“Mr Moriarty, Sir. I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, I swear I didn't” Cady babbled, “Honestly Sir, I didn't. I could keep talking to him, I could bring you information!”

 

Jim sighed and headed back to the table and gently placed the pliers down. “Oh Cady. I want to believe you, I really do..... But..... you know” he shrugged and picked up a vial of sulfuric acid. Not his favourite to use, but it would still do the job.

 

“Do you know what sulfuric acid is Cady? Any idea what it does once it hits the skin?”

 

“Please Boss, please. I didn't say anything he didn't already know!” There was snot dripping from Cady's nose now, Jim eyed it distastefully.

 

“We'll just make sure shall we?”

 

Jim tipped the vial slowly, letting a little drop of the acid spill over the top and onto the exposed flesh on Cady's arm, he tensed and moaned as the acid began to work.

 

“Now Cady, it's not that bad..... that was just a taste. I suggest you tell me the truth now” Jim's voice had dropped low, dangerously so.

 

“Boss” Cady pleaded, “Please, I didn't..... he threatened me, my family, I …. I had to Boss”

 

Jim frowned, “ Cady.... honeyyyyyy. Don't cry, it's not very fetching now is it?” He tilted Cady's face upwards towards him. “ Cady.... you realise I run background checks on all my employees? And keep a little eye on them while they are involved in our family?”

 

Cady started to cry. Jim broke his nose. The sound of it crunching under his fist made his grin even wider.

 

“You're a dirty little spy Cady.....and you _lied_ to me just now, you don't have a family. Do you know what I do to spies and lier’s?”

 

“Boss... I’m sorry, please Boss, don't do this” snot and blood dripped down over the man's mouth, mixing together and dripping down onto his chest.

 

Jim grabbed his face again, tipping it towards the ceiling, “ Oh Cady.... you know how this works” he sighed and brought his other hand up to over over Cady's eye, then quickly tipped some of the acid into it before he could close it.

 

Cady screamed, a long drawn out noise which chocked off into gasps and globs of vomit erupting from between his clenched teeth. Jim had to swiftly move out reach.

 

He was on his way to grab a knife when Moran poked his head around the door holding his phone.

 

“Boss, it's the chinese woman, she says Sherlock got away, that they had got the wrong man first.”

 

Jim went deathly still, “The wrong man? And who would this wrong man be?” He already knew, but he needed to hear it.

 

Moran mumbled into the phone, waited then glanced at Jim.

 

“Just spit it out Moran, I’m rather busy at the moment.”

 

“Watson, they got Watson instead Boss. He's ok though, hardly hurt at all before Holmes turned up and rescued him.” Moran frowned as he realised his mistake.

 

“ _Rescued him!”_ Jim was shouting, he knew he was shouting, but he couldn't stop. “ **RESCUED HIM????** He shouldn't have needed to be rescued”

 

He grabbed the bolt cutters and marched across to Cady, lined up then brought it down on his knee caps. Cady screamed, Jim laughed.

 

“Morannnnnn” He sang, watching Moran flinch slightly as he brought the cutters swinging down onto Cady's shoulder. “Go find her, wait for my signal, then _Put. Her ._ _ **Down!**_ ” He rained blows down on Cady's legs and ribs between words. Smiling the whole time.

 

When he stopped Moran had gone and Cady was groaning, trying to twist away as much as he could while still tied to the chair. He dropped the bolt cutter, slick with blood and pulled out a flip knife.

 

“Just one last thing Cady, then someone will take you to the hospital. You'll be fine”

 

He forced his hand into Cady's mouth, pulled his tongue out as far as he could, then quickly and efficiently sliced it off.

 

He whistled as he walked out, bloody footsteps trailing him on his way to sort out an execution for the idiot who had _dared_ to touch what was his.

 

The message would spread. John Watson was _off limits._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always feedback is welcomed, as are comments and kudos.... ;)
> 
> Jim sends John the Pronator Teres and Flexor Carpi Radialis muscles as a gift. ( Johns favourite muscles from the arm)
> 
> Than proceeds to torture an employee who had betrayed him and given information to a rival ( Regent ) 
> 
> Towards the end of the torture Moran pokes his head around the door to tell Jim that Shan had let Sherlock escape after kidnapping John first thinking he was Sherlock.
> 
> This evidently rather annoys Jim, who orders Moran to find her and wait for his signal. Before leaving he proceeds to beat the employee till he is barely conscious, than removes his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Any good? Next chapter will be up shortly hopefully. The rating may go up. i'm not sure yet.  
> Comments are lovingly received, in fact the more feedback i get, the bigger my ego gets, which in turn means more writing ;)


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